Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
Part Three: The Cadets
Starring Dr. Bath, and Freshmeat
See Earlier Part's here
Spoiler
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The coach, smelly, boyish, a haven of ancient relics (year-old chewing gum, stuck to seats, and the like), pulled up into the clearing, surrounded by trees, big, impersonal. One by one, the men (on the young side), marched out, in camouflage, their eyes bright, some with anticipation, some excitement, some mischief, few menace. Before them strolled the officer, inspecting, the crate of live rounds behind them, tantalising. Two boys, one older, more weary, weathered, said to the pretty lad beside him Are you new? The other lad nodded, his curls bouncing in the sweet woodland breeze. I moved, he whispers, from the Navy training group. I got sick of watching Zira make out whoever was on his boat. The other boy looks disgusted There's nothing wrong with that! And the younger one shook his head, worried, not wanting to offend on his first day (he's heard the tales, see. Bullets go astray on these trips. It wouldn't be the first time) No! No! His outburst earns him an aggrieved look from the sergeant (he's new to this job, normally he just teaches Maths, with some tea, and a nice biscuit), but he carries on. It's just... He never made out with me. There was silence, as the teacher, who missed his pi and treacle sorely, walked past, checking boots, and, the games began.

Bath ducked, as a paint grenade went off a few feet behind him, tinting everything red, turning the world upside down. Three boys, moaning in pain, fled the arena, the CCF leaders giggling in adult mirth, but Bath knew he wouldn't be laughed at. He'd learnt some tricks on the water, and dropped - and rolled as a smoke bomb smashed down next to him, releasing noxious fumes into the air, followed by a swift round of vicious bullets. Swearing, the ex-Navy lad (only in training, admittedly), thrust himself into a trench. To be greeted by a round of white bullets, which, slammed, painfully, onto his helmetted foreheard, and his wiry chest. Before him, the boy from earlier stood, slightly bloody, his meat fresh in the raw air. I win. Now. No-one'll be here for a while. Shall we take that helmet off..? And, as the two paints mixed, and the older teen walked nearer, Bath's vision was tinted pink.